


Biomechanically Inclined

by sandpapersnowman



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the perks of being more than Chuck’s friend is finding out the many <em>other</em> benefits of Chuck’s biomech arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biomechanically Inclined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hiiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiiro/gifts).



> sequel to [Biomechanical](http://sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com/post/29204039321/), written for [Hiiro](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiiro/), and mirrored on tumblr [here](http://sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com/post/42173375561/biomechanically-inclined)!  
> *edit: i fixed the buttload of errors! i am SO sorry about that, everyone.

One of the perks of being more than Chuck’s friend is finding out the many _other_ benefits of Chuck’s biomech arm. For example, his wrist doesn’t get tired as easily, which the other Burners know is good for coding, and Mike knew that too. But with the ascension to boyfriendship, he’d also found out that the ‘not getting tired’ also applied to jerking Mike off, which was a very embarrassing discovery that led to him coming in his pants in Mutt because Chuck just _hadn’t stopped_.

Another was that overheating could definitely be a problem. That led to small burns on the underside of his thigh once, when Chuck had overexerted his joints a little. Chuck, of course, his arm being covered in synthetic material, had hardly noticed the difference between the heat building up on his ‘bony’ wrist and the heat coming from both of them. Mike had become aware of the increasing burn when Chuck had adjusted his grip on his knee and pushed his leg harder up against his chest, but hadn’t been able to get out anything even slightly like a ‘stop’.

Chuck later apologized, but the pain had delayed Mike’s climax and he’d lasted longer that night than most, and therefore he insisted it was worth it. They’re still cautious about it, though, and Chuck tries to stay aware of the temperature when they fool around.

Grip can be a problem as well. As much as he loves those firm fingers, clasped around his own or around his waist, he’s very possessive of his dick, and would very much like to keep it attached to his body.

But his grip is the double-edged sword here. Because, sure; Chuck has to be careful if he switches from his right hand to his left (Mike is continuously amazed that he’s ambidextrous), and Chuck has to be careful not to hold onto him too softly or too tightly. Chuck’s never quite gotten the hang of it.

...Which is how Mike discovered a kink that he hadn’t really expected.

He likes being held down. He knew that already. He likes when Chuck’s hand plants itself on his chest, and when he puts his entire weight onto it to keep Mike pressed into the bed.

But then there was that one time, when Chuck’s hand accidentally slipped from his collarbone to his throat, and for a second, Mike hadn’t been able to breath. Chuck’s thumb was digging into the hollow of his throat and that was _definitely a new kind of_ _adrenaline rush, wow_.

He couldn’t breath. Chuck was still rocking his hips into Mike, not noticing his grip was cutting off Mike’s air yet. Somehow the combination of Chuck’s obliviousness and the feeling of his lungs compressing, desperately searching for air, had him frantically rolling up against Chuck, pressing down into every thrust and feeling his pulse hammering throughout his entire body.

When Chuck finally realized what he had been doing, he let go, and the rush of blood back to his head and the fact that Chuck’s movements hadn’t even _paused_ had him cumming between both of them, harder than he’d ever thought possible.

They’ve fooled around a couple times since then, but haven’t gone all the way again. Mike thinks the brief stint of abstinence might be connected to the look of confusion and horror Chuck donned when Mike came, gasping for air with his eyes squeezed shut, and although he hopes that’s not the case, he can’t help feeling guilty and ashamed of himself for having been so turned on by it. He’s tried to bring it up to him over the past week or so, but every time he thinks Chuck might be catching on without him having to explicitly mention the incident, Chuck pales, and Mike backs out.

Now, they’re in Mike’s room, pressed close together on his bed, wrapped up and tangled with each other, and exchanging slow, sloppy kisses. After a few minutes of comfortable silence besides the occasional smack of lips separating, Mike’s mouth moves downward, over Chuck’s jawline and over his pulse.

He mumbles something he knows Chuck can’t hear, and although he regrets it immediately, he’s still a little bit relieved; Chuck felt the vibration against his throat, surely, and in a second he’ll ask--

“What?”

Mike takes a deep breath, exhaling into the crook of Chuck’s neck and getting a repressed shiver from it.

“Does it weird you out?”

Mike’s mouth hovers below Chuck’s ear, both of them frozen and waiting on the other.

“...Does what weird me out?”

Mike winces a little bit internally, but still resolves to fix this.

“You know what. The... Thing. Last time. When I couldn’t... Breathe.”

Thinking of it nearly makes him press up into Chuck’s hip, but although he has enough self-control to restrain himself, his body still betrays him. Chuck can probably feel it, pressed up against his thigh, but Mike hopes that Chuck is too shocked or scared or whatever to put two and two together.

“...Right. That thing.”

“Yeah.”

Chuck swallows, and Mike can feel his Adam’s apple bob against his cheek. The small reminder that they’re so close makes him smile, and he nuzzles a little further into Chuck’s shirt.

“I...” Chuck laughs nervously. “I didn’t know you were into... That. Things like that.”

The unsure sentence makes Mike smile.

“I’m not exactly a nun, Chuckles. And I didn’t know either. It was just kind of a... Pleasant surprise.” He finally pulls his face from Chuck’s shoulder, and when he smiles up at his friend, he’s smiling right back. He looks a little terrified, but he’s still smiling.

Mike clears his throat awkwardly and looks down at the mattress between them.

“So... Do you want to try it? To see if it was just luck or if it’s actually something I like? I mean, we don’t have to, and we can just forget about all of this, if you want.” Mike smiles cravenly. He wants to try it again, he really, really does. He knows the answer to his own question.

Chuck, on the other hand, looks scared again, and his weak smile has slipped into a tight, almost hostile line.

“You know that’s not a good idea, Mikey. I could hurt you, or...” The unspoken ‘kill you’ lingers between them. They both know it’d be risky for Chuck to use his mechanical arm. There’s always the tiny chance of something jamming or getting stuck, and if his fingers locked up like that while they were digging into Mike’s windpipe...

It wouldn’t be good.

“I trust you,” Mike mumbles. “Nothing’s going to happen. When was the last time something malfunctioned?”

Chuck sighs. “It’s been a couple years, yeah, but--”

“Chuck, I’ll be fine.” He shuts his eyes and opens them again with a deep sigh. “Please.”

Chuck just kind of stares at him, and Mike’s reminded that Chuck can honestly be pretty oblivious sometimes. That little ‘please’ seems to have put everything in place for him; it all flashes across his face in shifts of understanding, and once Mike is sure that Chuck has definitely figured out that Mike wants him to do it, he carefully leans forward and kisses him again.

It’s different; it’s _charged_. They can both feel the change in atmosphere, and what was only a few minutes ago something comfortable, tense, and simple is now awkward, anxious, and full of expectation.

Chuck seems content to just lay there with him, his thigh hiked up between Mike’s legs as Mike barely presses into him. But soon, Mike is getting a little impatient, and it’s obvious that Chuck is waiting for him to make the first advancement.

In his mind, he huffs, but slides his hands up Chuck’s shirt anyway. From there, it’s smooth sailing; shirts, then pants, and then finally, they’re sitting there in nothing, Mike’s back up against the wall where the headboard used to be with his legs draped lazily over Chuck’s thighs.

(He still fondly remembers how they broke it--Mike on his elbows and knees, Chuck behind him and gripping the headboard too tightly. Like he said, they’ve always had a problem with grip, really.)

Now, Mike’s getting a _lot_ impatient. Chuck’s taking his time with his fingers, working him open as slowly as possible, and pausing to get more lubricant on his fingers often. On any other occasion, he wouldn’t really mind; Chuck’s fingers feel like heaven, the way they’re so careful and precise. Even now, the only thing keeping him from melting into it and letting Chuck take his time is the fact that at some point tonight, after they get started, Chuck’s going to...

Just the thought makes his hips twitch up into Chuck’s hand. His eyes widen, and he groans out a choked, “Stop!”

Chuck looks panicked for a second, pulling his fingers out. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Mike shuts his eyes tightly and sighs. “No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mutters in explanation, but Chuck is still staring at him, worried. Instead of answering, he pushes his hips up, moving a little further into Chuck’s lap. “IthoughtIwasgonnacum, c’mon, Chuck,” he whispers quickly, reaching down between his legs to get his fingers around Chuck’s erection before Chuck realizes what he’s said.

He nearly collapses against Mike in surprise, having been focussing on him until now, and Mike grins into Chuck’s shoulder. _Distraction is good,_ he thinks. _Let myself calm down, get Chuck a little more worked up, and maybe I’ll actually be able to last long enough for both of us to enjoy it._ He lets go of him only to squeeze lube onto his hand, and then goes back to practically petting Chuck’s hard-on.

A couple minutes of relaxed strokes later, Chuck biting and sucking marks into his neck the whole time, he pulls away and crushes his lips to Mike’s. He pulls Mike’s hips up a little more, supporting himself with one hand as he situates himself correctly.

He pushes in steadily, Mike eventually hooking his ankles around Chuck’s waist and tugging him forward to get him to just get on with it. He can’t think clearly enough to pretend he’s not _really_ looking forward to this, and as soon as Chuck is all the way in, Mike wipes off the lube on his hand with a couple short strokes on his own cock and is grabbing Chuck’s free hand. Mike’s fingers close around the thin wrist, and he looks up at him hopefully when he brings Chuck’s hand up to his shoulder.

Chuck blinks at him, silently asking if he’s sure he wants to do this, and the way Mike squeezes his wrist is enough to give him an answer.

He carefully slips Chuck’s hand to his throat, letting go and resting his hand on Chuck’s hip. He tightens his legs around Chuck, and feels his fingers twitch when he’s pressed into Mike even more.

For a while he stays like that, hand loosely resting on Mike’s throat, and he picks up gentle, dragged-out thrusts. When Mike begins squirming against him, he experimentally squeezes his fingers into his neck, and Mike’s entire body tenses up.

Chuck can hear the rasp of Mike’s throat as less air is allowed through, and Mike’s hand comes up to tug on his wrist again. His mouth stretches into a completely indecent grimace, and the motion of his tongue wetting his lips goes straight to the heat in Chuck’s groin.

Mike strokes Chuck’s hand with his thumb, pulling harder.

“Please, Chuckles, ‘s fine,” he groans, too worked up to care about keeping his composure.

Chuck hesitantly presses harder, trying to get a feel for moving his hips and keeping a safe grip on Mike’s throat, and Mike gasps under him, closing his eyes.

 _Please_ , he mouths, knowing Chuck still has his eyes locked on him. _Fuck,_ please.

And who is he to deny Mike something when he’s asking so politely?


End file.
